Page 57 of Bewicched

“Mom, you know he’s getting us dinner and don’t use the wordfetch. It’s rude. He’s not a dog. And since when do you have a prejudice against wolves?”

She paused her pacing to say, “Since one became interested in you.”

He was nearby. How odd that I would know that. “Shush,” I whispered. “He’s coming back.”

His boots sounded on the deck and then he was knocking on the glass door again.

“Come in,” I called. Mom was right. I needed a dining table. Hmm…

Declan brought in two large bags of food and shut the door, blocking the chilly wind off the ocean.

“Give me a minute.” I moved the tentacle that had dried from yesterday but still wasn’t finished. At some point, my life would return to normal and I could get back to work. I went into the pantry closet and pulled out a tablecloth—still in its package because what am I going to do with a tablecloth? My mother, who gave it to me, tutted and unwrapped it, throwing it over the worktable.

“Almost,” I called and went into the gallery for the two folding chairs I had at the card table for readings. I placed them at one end of the table and then ducked into the fire room for a stool, placing it near the chairs. “Et voilà!”

Mom had gathered plates and utensils while Declan unpacked the bags. “I considered seafood,” he explained, “but I wasn’t sure if you ate that. I hope Thai works for everyone. There’s shrimp in the mango salad, but I ordered pad thai with chicken, beef and broccoli, a red curry with pork, cashew beef. Uh, I skipped the calamari—”

“Good call,” I said.

“But I got satay chicken and imperial rolls. Brown and white rice—I wasn’t sure which you preferred—and a pork fried rice.” He put down the last box from the bag and grinned. “Sound good?”

“That is a considerable amount of food for three people,” Mom said.

He claimed the stool before I could, which was kind, as it wobbled. “Not if you’re me. Besides, I like leftovers. It takes the guesswork out of tomorrow’s lunch.”

“It all sounds great,” I said. “Let’s eat.”

25

Unexpected Visitors

Dinner was delicious, if awkward. I asked Declan about his woodworking and where he apprenticed. Mom asked him about his schooling and his plans for the future. What killed me, though, is as much as she was trying to scare him off, he just smiled and calmly answered her questions. I would have bagged up the food and left, but he had a much longer fuse than I did.

When we were done, we put the leftovers in my fridge. He was working here tomorrow anyway. There was no point in taking the food for a drive. And if some of the food fell out of the cartons and on to my lunch plate, who would be the wiser?

A knock sounded at the back door. Declan growled, clearly taken by surprise. The outdoor lights were on a motion sensor but hadn’t turned on. As I didn’t think Wilbur had grown hands, I flicked my fingers, casting a spell to turn on the lights.

Mom flinched, but I remembered that grumpy face. “It’s okay, Mom,” I said, patting her shoulder.

Declan stood and walked me to the door.

When I opened it, I realized there were three people, not one.

After a long pause during which we stared at one another, the demon said, “You asked me to come. Are you letting us in or what?” Dave, dressed in all black, stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

He wasn’t the problem, though. The ridiculously good-looking vampire behind him was. And it wasn’t the chiseled features, the stormy gray eyes, or the thick dark blond hair that pissed me off. It was that he and two of his bloodsucker buddies had broken into my house when I was in England, threatening to drain me dry if I didn’t give them the information they wanted. Assholes.

“You, I remember,” I ground out, “and there’s no way I’m inviting you into my home.”

“About that,” he said in a perfectly polished British accent, “I do apologize for threatening you.”

Declan moved up directly behind me and growled, the floorboards reverberating. “Bloodsucker,” he rumbled.

“Yes,” the vampire responded, “well spotted.” His hand flew up in the air and was suddenly holding a tennis ball.

I had to view this around Declan’s shoulder because as soon as the bloodsucker moved, Declan stepped in front of me. I patted his shoulder. Hard. And then pushed him aside. I had this.

The fancy British vampire held the ball out to me. “Was this intended for you, or shall I throw it back?”

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